


My Breathing Gets Faster (and so does my Heartbeat)

by MalecAcid



Series: TUA Creators Bingo [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hargreeves Deserves Better, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Gen, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, No Incest, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon, This is sad im sad it will probably make you sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecAcid/pseuds/MalecAcid
Summary: Why couldn't his useless brain remember that he was dead? Dead as in not coming back. Dead as in being a ghost. Dead as in basically not existing. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.ORBen's not doing very well being alone with his thoughts at night.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: TUA Creators Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799890
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	My Breathing Gets Faster (and so does my Heartbeat)

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaa oki so!!! I've been working in this fic for,,,,, a month kdkskdks and I'm so excited to finally post it 🥺🥺🥺 
> 
> ‼️Trigger warning for panic attacks, mention of drugs, not fantastic sleeping situations, mentions of gore and slight dissociation‼️
> 
> Also!! The title is from the song Nightmare by Set it Off and it's a really good song kdkskdksk I love it sm 😔😔 
> 
> Anyways I hope that you like 🥺🥺
> 
> Oh yeah!! This is also filling in the Panic Attack square on the tua bingo card!! I'm finally starting to write more things for that so 😔😔 kfkskdksk hopefully I'll be able to finish it in time

Klaus was passed out in an alley. Again. 

This wasn't an unusual occurrence, of course, but that didn't mean Ben had to be any happier about it. The ground was uncomfortable. 

He couldn't actually feel it, but Klaus sure would when he eventually woke up. Ben wasn't looking forward to hearing him bitch about his back all day, that was for sure. 

The nights were always so slow for Ben. He had no one to talk to, and he couldn't go anywhere. 

Well, he could. He just wouldn't. In the past five years of being a ghost and following Klaus around, there had been one too many encounters where Ben had left Klaus in an alley for the night to roam around and entertain himself, and had come back to see all of Klaus' things gone. 

It wasn't much fun, anyways. Roaming the city at night was a lot more boring without someone talking your ear off by your side. 

Normally if they were in a hotel or a friends house for the night, Klaus would make sure to leave a radio or TV on for Ben. Ben always thought that he did it so that he wouldn't have to hear Ben complain for the rest of the day, but maybe he was just being nice. 

This night, though, they were once again in an alley. And Ben was bored. Very, very, bored. If Klaus was going to complain about his back tomorrow, he would sure have some retaliation complaints to fire back. 

A raccoon decided to knock over a close by trash can in that moment, causing the trash to pour out and phase through Ben. He shuddered at the feeling before standing with a groan and moving to sit against the wall across from Klaus. 

He knew that the trash didn't affect him, knew that it couldn't even touch him, but he couldn't help the way he felt gross at the thought. Stupid alive subconscious that should've went away the first month after he died. At this point it was just starting to get tedious. 

He leaned his back against the brick wall as much as he could, moving his head to hit it lightly, not that he could feel it. 

Klaus gave a loud snore then, and Ben rolled his eyes, glancing at Klaus before squeezing his eyes shut. If there was one thing he missed about being alive, it was definitely sleeping. 

Sleeping meant being able to escape your thoughts for hours at a time. Sleeping was a break from the world. Sleeping was something that could ground you, could make you feel better after a bad night, could recharge and revive you. Ben didn't get to have that. 

It was okay, though. It was okay. At least Ben didn't look like your normal average everyday ghost that was most of what Klaus could see when he wasn't high off his ass. At least he was sane. At least he wasn't lost, looking the way he did when he died. A giant gaping hole in his stomach gushing with blood, eldritch horrors hanging limply from it. Pain, so, so much pain. 

He pressed his head even harder against the wall, attempting to ignore the way it phased through slightly at the extra pressure. Ben hated the way he had to focus if he just wanted to lean against something or sit in a chair. He hated the way that if his focus faltered for just a moment he would phase through it. All it was was just another reminder that he wasn't actually there, that he wasn't actually a part of the world. 

Just because he wished he was alive didn't mean he wanted to go back to his first seventeen years of life, though. Ben would take all his years of being a ghost, being numb to the world with Klaus over the seventeen years of abuse he and his siblings experienced from their asshole of a father. 

He didn't know where he would be right now if he hadn't died. He never really had a 'life plan.' Maybe he would've been a journalist. Maybe he would've had a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a partner, a dog, a best friend. Maybe he would've worked at a bookstore. Maybe he would've stayed at the academy all these years like Luther had… 

One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he probably wouldn't have ended up being with Klaus for the past five years. He didn't know how that thought made him feel. 

This is why Ben hated nights, he decided. There was too much time to think about his past without Klaus awake to distract his mind. Too much time to dig deep into his inner feelings. Too much time for his throat to feel as if it was starting to close up and too much time for his chest to shrink in on itself. 

Ben would never say that he was _good_ at feelings. But he didn't cry, didn't even know if he could as a ghost. Most of the time he just pushed his shit as far away as he could until it came rushing back and overtaking him. Coincidentally, that always happened at night, even when he was still breathing out of need rather than just habit. 

When he was alive, Ben's pull to reality would always be people or touch. Though because of the way their family was, he almost always had to turn to touch as a way to draw himself from a state of panic. But now that he was dead… 

Now that he was dead, there was no touch. There was no texture, no feeling, no temperature. The only thing there was was a light pressure if he focused hard enough, and if he was ever panicking he definitely would not have been focusing. Good thing that he had only gotten better at pushing shit away since he died, right? 

It had been… a while. Since his last 'freak out' or 'panic attack' or whatever you wanted to call it. It was always at night, always when Klaus was asleep. Which was probably for the best, anyways. He didn't need Klaus to see him like that, curled up in a ball on the floor, eyes wide just looking for _something_ to ground himself. Klaus did not need to see him like that, couldn't see him like that. 

Sure there had been times when Klaus has seen him break down. When they were kids there were more than a few incidents where Ben had come back from training, covered in blood and frightened dog barks ringing in his ears, to find comfort in Klaus. Out of everyone in their dysfunctional family, Klaus understood best what it was like to have a power you despised. 

That was so long ago, though. They were just kids. Just little kids. But then Ben was dying and watching Klaus fall apart due to the drugs that were due to the ghosts. And god, does Ben understand. If drugs had numbed the constant aching pain of the horror then he was sure he would've gone down the same path Klaus did. That didn't make it any easier, though. He had a front row seat to Klaus' shitstorm of a life and he didn't even get any popcorn. 

Memories were coming in quick, now. Memories of killing innocent dogs and cats that his father placed in front of him. Memories of watching his brother overdose over and over again, not able to do anything to help. Memories of crying himself to sleep from ages four to seventeen. Memories of being torn apart by the one thing he was supposed to have control over. Memories of panic. Memories of voices calling out to him, telling him to walk into the light that he was so, so afraid of. So many memories of panic and fear and terror and- 

If he could've he would have groaned at the way the breath he didn't need started to pick up. This was how it always started, the spiraling thoughts and then the heavy, quick breathing and the seemingly inescapable panic that he just had to wait out. 

He bit his lip, huffing at the way the pain he didn't really expect didn't register. He needed _something_. Something to ground himself, something to get him out of this state that only seemed to get worse as time went on. 

He attempted to lean even more heavily against the wall, but when his back phased completely through the brick his breathing just picked up even more. 

Ben moved out of the wall quickly, going to sit in the middle of the alley, only a few feet away from a still snoring Klaus. He took his hands from where they were crossed over his chest and pushed them against the ground. The pressure was there, but it was numb. Always numb. 

He rubbed his hands against the scratchy concrete harshly. There wasn't a sting, like he would've felt when he was alive, but there was _something_. Something other than a light pressure that he got from pushing against the ground or himself. 

He rubbed at the ground quicker than before as he began to hyperventilate even more. When he lifted his hands, palms turned towards his eyes to view them, he shuddered at the way there was not a single mark left behind. He had no effect on the world, and the world would never leave an effect on him ever again. 

Another racoon knocked another trash can over, causing it to fall against the concrete with a loud crashing noise that rang loudly in Ben's ears. He slammed his hands over them, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his elbows on top. 

His shallow breaths only led to him feeling light-headed, which was weird. Could ghosts even feel light headed? Could ghosts even panic? It sure felt like they could in that moment. 

Ben bit at his lips, the inside of his cheek in an attempt to feel _something_ , but all that registered was a tiny bit of pressure that did nothing to calm the swirling storm inside his mind. 

His hands shook as he curled them into fists, his nails that never grew digging into his palms. It did absolutely nothing to calm him, he didn't even feel the bit of pressure that he normally would have in that moment. 

He didn't even know how he ended up spiraling this far. All he was thinking about was how lonely his nights were, then he started thinking about lonely nights before that, then he started thinking about being alive, then he started thinking about his past, his childhood and Reginald and the horror and- 

He couldn't. He couldn't deal with it. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think clearly. He couldn't touch, couldn't feel and he couldn't _breathe_.

His thoughts were scrambling around in his brain and his foot was phasing through the trash can that the first racoon from before had knocked over and his head hurt so much. He wanted to feel. Wanted to feel the wall, the ground, just anything to ground himself. He needed someone, needed someone but no one would be able to hear him but Klaus and Klaus was passed out in the alley. 

It wasn't like he needed to see Ben like this anyways. It wasn't like _could_ see Ben like this. 

The only thing he could do was curl up and wait for it to be over, he decided. Well, he didn't really decide that for himself. His body really did its own thing, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and falling onto his side. 

Ben's eyes were wide as he attempted to slow down his breathing. He didn't understand why his body was reacting like this. He hadn't needed to breathe for years, he was already dead, and yet here he was, his mind telling him that he was going to die because he couldn't breathe. 

Why couldn't his useless brain remember that he was dead? Dead as in not coming back. Dead as in being a ghost. Dead as in basically not existing. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

All he had to do was wait it out. It should've been easy enough but it felt impossible as every attempt to slow his unneeded breathing failed. He couldn't deal with this. Why couldn't he deal with this?

What felt like a million minutes later, Ben heard the sounds of Klaus waking up, and he slammed his hands over his ears at even the smallest bit of noise. He heard a seemingly miles away groan through his useless hands and then trash being pushed around as Klaus scrambled to stand up. Then he heard the pounding footsteps rushing to his side. 

"Shit, Ben." He distantly heard Klaus say as he looked for _some_ way to help. "Shit."

It was almost as if he was watching it happen in slow motion from outside of his body. The only thing he could feel was his shivers as Klaus' hands went through his shoulders when he attempted to touch him. 

"Ben. It's okay, uh…" Klaus said and continued mumbling while Ben layed there, unresponsive. 

Klaus clearly knew what this _was_ , he had had enough panic attacks to know the symptoms, but that didn't mean he knew what to do to help his brother. All he could do was sit back against the wall and talk quietly in hopes that Ben was taking anything he said in. 

"Just… just try to breathe. Try to breathe." He said quietly. He didn't know if Ben could hear him or not, and he didn't know if what he was saying was made to comfort Ben or himself. He didn't want to know. 

Eventually, some time later -neither of them knew how long- Ben's breathing began to slow to a normal pace, his hands loosened from where they were tight around his ears, and his body slowly relaxed from it's stiff position. 

He looked exhausted. He looked like he needed a long nap and a hug, neither of which he could get ever again. 

Klaus was silent as Ben started to sit up. He pulled his hood far over his head so that it shadowed his expression and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them and turning to Klaus, faking a look of surprise. 

"Oh you're awake." He said quietly as he stood up. He looked up to see that the sun was just starting to rise, and stared at it for a moment. His eyes were unaffected by the brightness. "What time is it?" 

"Ben-" 

"What time is it." He cut him off, and Klaus sighed. 

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe five, six in the morning? Why?"

"I don't know." He huffed. "Just wondering." Just wondering, just changing the subject as quickly as possible, all the same to Ben. 

"Ben, are you-" 

"You should probably find something to eat." He cut Klaus off again. "You spent everything on drugs last night, so you're probably gonna have to go dumpster diving." 

Klaus sighed. "Yeah." He got up from his spot leaning against the wall of the alley and began to walk in the direction of the rich neighborhood he regularly frequented when he had nothing to eat. They always threw out the most edible stuff. 

They were silent as they walked. Ben was staring straight ahead from beside Klaus, his hood still pulled tightly over his head. Klaus glanced at him every so often, but didn't try to say anything. He didn't want to be cut off again, but he also didn't want Ben to think that he didn't care. 

They arrived at the neighborhood fairly quickly, and Klaus opened up the dumpster with a quiet clang, resting his hands on the sides of it and turning to Ben, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

"Ben, I-" 

"It was just a bad night, okay?" He cut him off for the third time that morning, and Klaus huffed. "Sorry you had to see that, or whatever. We don't have to talk about it." 

He turned away from the dumpster to fully face him. "Ben. You don't have to be…" He trailed off, searching for the right words now that Ben wasn't interrupting him. "Embarrassed. Or ashamed or anything like that." Ben moved his eyes to the ground, and Klaus sighed. "I'm serious. We were never good at heart to hearts, and we never will be, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about shit." 

Ben tilted his head to lean against the wall, face turned towards the sky, and Klaus could've sworn that his eyes shined with tears. Could ghosts even cry? Klaus didn't know. He hadn't seen Ben cry since they were kids. Maybe it was because Ben didn't want him to see it. 

"You've seen me… go through a lot of shit. You've _helped_ me with a lot of shit. And that's not… a one-way deal okay? I'm-" He paused, clearing the lump in his throat before continuing. "I'm here for you too, asshole." 

Ben huffed a laugh, uncrossing his arms and dropping them by his sides. "Yeah, yeah." He turned to face him fully. "Okay." He said softly, and Klaus nodded. 

"Alright." He turned and promptly jumped into the dumpster, landing on his ass inside and making Ben huff another laugh. "Help me find something, I'm starving." 

Ben rolled his eyes, but jumped inside, pointing out the least moldy options and warning him about the rat preparing to bite his ankle. 

And things weren't different after that, by any means. They didn't have heart to hearts, didn't cry about their trauma together, and they definitely weren't any nicer to each other. 

But there was more of a mutual understanding, almost. They knew that there _could_ be heart to hearts. They knew that they _could_ talk about shit with each other, since neither of them had anyone else. 

And they knew that they didn't have to hide anymore. 

Caring about each other wasn't a one-way deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaa I hope that you liked it 🥺🥺


End file.
